


one foot in your bedroom, and one foot out the door

by crownedcarl



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Baggage, Infidelity, M/M, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, shitty teenage boys behaving inappropriately - not condoned by the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcarl/pseuds/crownedcarl
Summary: Demetri has seen Eli cry, and he's watched Eli strip his bed in the middle of the night without saying a word, and Demetri is always going to be the first person Eli ever kissed. Somehow, Demetri staring him down and effortlessly barrelling past all of Eli's defenses turns out to be a more shockingly vulnerable experience than any of the others.It's like comparing a papercut to being gutted; right now, Eli's insides are somewhere down by his feet."Sometimes," Demetri whispers, "I think I hate you, dude."
Relationships: Demetri/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 154





	one foot in your bedroom, and one foot out the door

**Author's Note:**

> title from hum hallelujah by fall out boy, because i can't listen to that song without thinking of these two. i just think they're neat. this is just a quick and dirty first foray into cobra kai for me so hopefully you have as much fun reading it as i did writing it, folks. i would love to hear your thoughts on this down in the comments, because i'm a slut for feedback. <3

The closet is kind of tiny, Eli notices. It would be hard not to notice, all things considered, when Demetri can't execute a proper turn without elbowing Eli in the stomach, and even then, Eli kind of gets the feeling that he did that on purpose. Slowly, in a bid to get some distance, he shuffles backwards into the shelves, his eyes lowered to the floor while Demetri loudly grumbles about Yasmine's stupid ideas and proper timekeeping - going on his muttering, it's hardly been half a minute, but Eli knows firsthand how long a minute can drag on for when you'd rather be anywhere but here.

Here being the utility closet at Sam's house, under the stairs, while everyone else gets to keep drinking in the living room. Awesome. Eli should've stuck to his guns and stayed outside, but lately, it doesn't seem like he ever gets what he wants, does it?

Still. It could be worse. At least Demetri is just as inconvenienced, Eli tells himself, trying to move past the crazy, hopeless part of his brain that keeps trying to turn this into a positive thing. As if.

"Seven minutes," Demetri mutters, turning around in the narrow space between the shelves, groping for the light-switch, "Has never, ever felt longer."

"Yeah," Eli quietly agrees, doing his best to keep a neutral face on. It's been months since he managed to mend fences, and Eli's not looking to rock the boat unless he has to.

Since he had slunk to Demetri with his tail between his legs and an apology sitting anxious and heavy on his tongue, things have been mostly cool between them. Mostly.

Sometimes, Demetri mentions the broken arm and guilt-trips Eli into doing him a favor. Sometimes, Demetri takes their mutual trash-talking a little too far, knowing that he can - after everything Eli's done to him, Eli considers it fair game and keeps his mouth shut, deciding to grin and bear it. Honestly, he could've gotten off a whole lot worse. He could've ended up never speaking to Demetri again, and if Eli has to put up with Demetri being angry and nasty and cruel, well - Eli's had plenty of practice at taking it.

He's a pushover with Demetri, lately. Like right now, actually, because after Yasmine had suggested a round of seven minutes in heaven - with resounding complaints from both Sam and Eli, practically groaning in sync - it had been just a weird kind of fluke that Eli was the first to spin the bottle and then it had been a random, uncomfortable coincidence that it landed on Demetri, with Yasmine's face pinching as she watched everything unfold.

Eli isn't a gentleman or anything, but you'd have to be blind not to notice the brewing tension or Yasmine's thin-lipped smile, the unhappy storm raging in her eyes. "I could go again," he had suggested, and it had surprised the hell out of Eli when Demetri ended up shooting him down and insisting on not chickening out, getting to his feet and declaring "No, no, wouldn't dream of it. Come on, Eli. Don't be a _pussy."_

It had been a pretty deliberate choice of words, leaving Eli with no choice but to stand and face the challenge head-on, so into the closet they went, Demetri's hand on Eli's shoulder to guide him inside. It had felt pretty fucking damning, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving Eli stuck in a room with his memories and his demons, all of them wearing Demetri's face.

"Well, this is cozy," Demetri laughs, like he's not at all bothered by the situation, "Beats being shoved into a locker, am I right? Although the dimensions are pretty similar..."

"You wanted in here," Eli points out, shrugging, "Nobody forced you. Quit whining."

"My honor forced me. What kind of man would I be if I backed down from a challenge?"

"As if," Eli laughs quietly, keeping his voice soft, "Rising to the challenge would be you kissing me. It's not like we're actually going to make out, so it doesn't really change anything. We could be out there, not making out," he emphasizes, "Instead, we're stuck in here, also not making out."

He wonders if Demetri is just trying to screw with him, but it doesn't seem like his style. Whatever Demetri wants out of this is a total mystery to Eli, which means that he's feeling distinctly at a disadvantage, wondering if they're just going to stare at each other until their time's up.

"Making out is overrated," Demetri finally says, "Too much tongue, too wet...you know?"

"Amen to that."

"Better to just skip the foreplay, huh?"

Demetri's looking at Eli closely. It's a pretty pointed question. "Uh, sure?" Eli tries, aiming for a smirk, "I guess. Kissing can be fun. It's not the main event, though."

His voice comes out thinner than it should. Eli shakes himself, his arms crossed tightly, waiting for Demetri to find a safer topic, because Eli's mind is racing and he sure as hell can't think of anything _but_ kissing, now, and Demetri is looking at him like he knows it, too.

"Remember," Demetri huffs, leaning back with his arms crossed loosely, the picture of relaxation, "Remember when we'd practice at it? In the dark, just like this? Man, who would have thought we'd eventually make it with two of the hottest girls in school?"

He tilts his head, staring Eli down, and not for the first time in his life, Eli hates the scant inches that Demetri has on him. After everything he's been taught, after everything he's done to be better, stronger, faster, all it takes is Demetri looming taller and broader in front of him to make Eli feel small again.

Their mutual agreement to never talk about trading kisses under Eli's Spiderman sheets has been broken. Eli swallows thickly, closing his eyes, trying to figure out if this is some kind of blackmail or just run of the mill humiliation. God knows he deserves it, either way.

"Did it help?" Demetri asks brightly, nudging Eli's foot with his own. "Moon never seemed to have any complaints, am I right?"

"What, exactly," Eli spits, "Are you trying to accomplish, dude? I get it. We made out a bunch a few years ago-"

"You liked it."

Eli's mouth dries up in an instant, like someone's poured quicksand into it. The light's kind of dim; the odds of Demetri catching him flushing are low, but try as he might, Demetri is his best friend, or...he was, once, and he can read Eli like an open book. "Hey, don't sweat it," Demetri laughs, shuffling a little closer, "I'm just saying, this brings it all back."

Maybe it's not on purpose. Maybe Eli's just imagining the way Demetri's sidling closer, like he's just fumbling in the dark. Maybe it isn't intentional, Demetri pushing up into Eli's space like he belongs there, like he's trying to push all of Eli's buttons by hovering so close Eli can hear the scratch of cotton against flannel, plastic buttons grating against Eli's chest, and he says a sharp, thin "Enough," into the air between them.

Thing is, since he broke Demetri's arm, since Demetri decided to let him back in-?

Eli's having a hard time saying no.

He doesn't know what the endgame is, here, but Eli's pretty sure he gets hurt somewhere before it all cuts to black and Demetri steps out of the closet, because that would be following the script. Eli hurt Demetri; now Demetri's hurting him right back.

"Enough...what?"

Eli closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath. Hands - big hands - land on his shoulders, and Eli ducks his head until his chin hits his chest, like he's making himself smaller, the exact opposite of everything sensei Lawrence and sensei Kreese taught him to do, but right now, Eli doesn't feel like the predator. He feels a whole lot like prey.

"Eli," Demetri laughs, "Eli, Eli, Eli..."

"Real cute," Eli grits out, "What do you want from me, man? How am I supposed to make it right? Am I supposed to, what, lick your boots? Let you kick the shit out of me? Let you bring up a stupid fucking crush I had years ago to remind me of what a loser I am? _What,_ Demetri? Fucking tell me!"

Demetri's expression shifts, like a candle flickering in a breeze, and Eli shuts his mouth, his cheeks burning. It doesn't look like Demetri really needs to work all that hard to humiliate Eli. Eli's doing great at it all by himself, which Demetri used to call a defense mechanism - make fun of yourself before anyone else does, right? Take back the power. Eli has no power here, though, staring down at his feet and waiting for Demetri to make a move.

The silence drags on. It's excruciating. Eli starts to tense under Demetri's hands, but the second he tries to squirm away, Demetri looks like he's suddenly made a decision, because he flexes his fingers and shoves Eli into the shelves - hard - before sighing "Sometimes, for such a smart guy, you can be really stupid," and Eli manages to stutter out half of a sarcastic thank-you before Demetri swoops down-

\- a hawk swooping down, hunting, hungry, elegant in the way only wild animals can be -

-and kisses Eli, square on the mouth, and every thought in Eli's crowded head goes quiet all at once. It's like someone throwing a bucket of water on smoldering embers. It kills all the fire inside Eli that thought about fighting, about squirming. All he ends up doing is clutching Demetri's shirt in his hands, finding an anchor to hold on to.

"You," Demetri chuckles, right up against Eli's lips, "Had the biggest crush on me. Don't think I forgot. You thought I was adorable," Demetri muses, taking Eli back to that stupid, awful Valentine's day years ago and the card he had given Demetri, the fact that he had actually used the word _adorable_ against his better judgement, "And then you had the brightest idea, right, Eli? Let's practice our Frenching, see if we can't be ready for the droves of girls waiting to date us...ah, those were the days."

"You asshole," Eli sighs, his voice all quiver and heated breath, like he's thirteen again, hiding under the covers with Demetri, lips clumsy against each other, "Alright. Had enough fun, yet?"

Demetri pins him with an indecipherable look. His thumb rubs hard and unyielding against the hinge of Eli's jaw, and something throaty and shocked is tugged out of Eli's mouth when Demetri plasters himself against Eli's body, his eyes huge and demanding when Demetri looks down, chews his lip, and announces "Not even close, buddy."

It kind of hurts, in a strange, not entirely unpleasant way when Demetri kisses him again, hard and hungry. Maybe this is just another way of working out his issues, but instead of making Eli buy him lunch, Demetri's making Eli pay him back with a pound of shivering flesh. It wouldn't be the worst way to settle their differences, but it does leave Eli reeling, fumbling for a handhold against Demetri's body. He doesn't want to admit, even then, that the idea of Demetri being stronger than him turns Eli on, but Eli's sudden shiver speaks volumes.

The fucked up part is that while Demetri might be bigger and might have the mass and the broad shoulders to keep Eli pinned, Eli's the better fighter, and he's not trying to get away or put a stop to Demetri's relentless advance at all. What would be the point? Eli's hopeless, and Demetri's looking to get revenge. Might as well be right here, with a time limit. Maybe Eli actually gets out of this with his feelings intact, after all.

He's moaning. Eli's brain catches up to his body just in time to inform him of the fact that he's _moaning_ while Demetri's hand cups the back of his head, and then Demetri's kissing Eli like he's got something to prove, and he's whispering all kinds of things that could be insults but that end up sounding nice, because it's _Demetri,_ and even when he calls Eli an asshole, it still sounds a little fond. It sounds like maybe it's hard to shake the habit.

"You," Demetri hisses, abandoning Eli's mouth in favor of pushing their foreheads together, his fingers gripping Eli's loose shirt collar, stretching it around his throat, "You really, really screwed up. You get that, right? Tell me you get that, somewhere in that huge, useless head of yours?"

"Obviously," Eli breathes, blinking rapidly, "So, what? This is supposed to be the punishment?"

His heart is racing. He never expected things to go back to normal, but Eli never expected _this,_ either. He's barely treading water, trying to keep up with Demetri and his wants and his crazy, unpredictable moodswings. A couple of minutes being kissed senseless in a closet, and Eli's already struggling to remember where they stand.

Demetri looks at him, lips pursed, until he breaks on a laugh. "Honestly, I don't know," he admits, and his hands are falling to Eli's hips, now, like that's something he would've ever done before. But, Eli reasons, that ship has already sailed - Demetri kissed him, so what's a little friendly groping between guys? It's over and done with, and Eli just stands there and shivers and waits for Demetri to start making sense. "Sometimes, I want to smack you for all the shit you did. All the shit you did to me, specifically."

"That's fair."

"Uh-huh. Sometimes," Demetri continues, shaking Eli by the shoulder, "Sometimes, I want to shave your stupid hair and put you in a dorky sweater and just - aw, I don't know. Make you be Eli again, dude. _My_ Eli. The guy that I could count on. And..."

He trails off and then shrugs, half-smiling. "We got in here, and you looked at me that same damn way, you know? The way you used to look at me, man, when we were all we had. After we got locked in here, I saw that, and then it was like you forgot how to be honest with me. And I couldn't stand that, after everything."

"So you kiss me," Eli ventures, his expression going carefully blank, "Right. Yeah. Pretty, uh...pretty slick," he offers, voice going weak, "Right. Because it doesn't matter what else I do, right, Demetri? To you, it's always going to be sad, lonely, stupid fucking Eli with his stupid fucking crush on you-"

It's not his fault when his voice breaks like that. It's been a long day, Eli tells himself, stubbornly closing his eyes when Demetri starts protesting. "Save it," Eli mumbles, his arms tucked in tightly by his sides, "It's like giving a dog a fucking treat. Good job, Eli, right? You didn't flip out or go psycho on your best bud. Here's a kiss," Eli mocks, "That's pretty fucking low. Seriously. At least when I broke your arm, I wasn't playing mind games or jerking you around."

Demetri's gaping at him, like a fish out of water. Eli stares right back, and he wonders how many of his tells Demetri can still clock, because Eli has never forgotten what Demetri looks like when he's shell-shocked.

He remembers at least one tell. "Do not," Demetri huffs, "Try to turn this on me. Eli, you jackass...did it ever occur to you," he pushes, invading Eli's space again, "That maybe I missed you? This? Us?"

Demetri's hands are flying all over the place while he gestures between them, and Eli bites his lower lip, bitterly asking "Oh, so this is just how you feel about me? Nevermind Yasmine out there? Nevermind all the shit I've done to you, and the way you keep punishing me for it? 'cause this," he insists, "Is just some kind of payback for you, isn't it?"

He knows that Demetri has never been afraid to push an advantage when he felt like he had to, and he's done almost everything that he can to hurt Eli since their friendship fell apart, but this is a step too far. It should be, at least. When Demetri's face wavers, Eli knows that he's about to get an answer he doesn't really want, and he fists his hands in Demetri's sweater before he can chicken out. So what if it's not an ideal situation? Life's not fair. Life doesn't just hand you things; you grab them and hold on tight, so Eli takes a deep breath and a step closer to Demetri.

"If you want to take it out on me like this," Eli breathes, "Go for it. Fucking...whatever you want, go for it. If it'll make you feel better."

There's maybe two, three minutes left on the clock. Eli wonders if Demetri has ever actually thought about this before, the way Eli used to think about it, laying in bed under those goddamn all-seeing Spiderman sheets.

Demetri has seen Eli cry, and he's watched Eli strip his bed in the middle of the night without saying a word, and Demetri is always going to be the first person Eli ever kissed. Somehow, Demetri staring him down and effortlessly barrelling past all of Eli's defenses turns out to be a more shockingly vulnerable experience than any of the others.

It's like comparing a papercut to being gutted; right now, Eli's insides are somewhere down by his feet.

"Sometimes," Demetri whispers, "I think I hate you, dude."

"Yeah. Tell me about it."

"And sometimes," Demetri chokes out, "You give me those stupid puppy eyes, man, and..."

Apparently, the time for talking is over. Demetri shoves forward, surging like a tidal wave, and his hands cup Eli's jaw in the second before his mouth covers Eli's in a kiss that's not brutal, exactly, but not gentle either. It's the kind of kiss Eli has seen on TV, before, in moments that are supposed to be tense and romantic, and kissing Demetri in Samantha Larusso's utility closet is anything _but,_ except it still sends these shivers up Eli's spine that make him clutch at Demetri like Eli's suddenly become a damsel in distress.

His knees aren't buckling. They're really not.

"You kiss Yasmine like this?" Eli pants, grinning a wide, toothy grin, just because he can - because it pushes Demetri's buttons, makes him bite at Eli's lower lip, and that's a victory that Eli's going to savor until he's old and gray.

"Do I kiss Yasmine like she's the guy I want to punch half the time? No," Demetri mutters, "Get back here."

Eli's heart is about to explode in his chest. No. Demetri doesn't kiss Yasmine like he kisses Eli; Demetri doesn't kiss Yasmine like he's dying to get his mouth on hers. He only kisses Eli that way.

 _My Eli,_ Demetri had said. My Eli, like there was any distinction between the Eli everyone else saw and the one Demetri knew, and maybe there is. Maybe Demetri's Eli is the guy that whispers "You want me?" like he's terrified of the answer, everything cocksure about him left behind in the living room, Demetri stripping him down to his base layers. Even if it's mostly a punishment or a way to mindfuck him, Eli can't find the energy to really care at this point - not when Demetri kisses like _that._

"Holy shit, Eli," Demetri groans, "What's it look like? You want me to spell it out for you? Bring you flowers, lay you down nicely on a soft bed somewhere-?"

It would be kind of nice, Eli thinks, shuddering hard when Demetri works at his jaw with his lips, like he's thinking about leaving a hickey, except he can't, obviously, and Eli stutters "Don't be a dick," before backtracking, snorting "Oh, so you _have_ been thinking about me? In a nice soft bed? Awfully bold of you, Demetri. I don't put out on the first date."

"Shut your fucking face," Demetri glowers, and then he goes and palms at Eli's bare stomach where his shirt has ridden up, "Time's almost up. Fuck," he heaves a sigh, "And I was just getting to the good part, too."

Eli's not even drunk, but he lurches and sways unsteadily when Demetri takes his hands back, tucking them into his pockets nonchalantly while Eli pants for breath and adjusts his rumpled shirt, his pants hanging askew on his hips. Demetri laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"It's nothing," he deflects, but eventually, Demetri's hand cups Eli's jaw like he's one of Demetri's prized action figures, the kind that you handle with care and never, ever take out of the box. "It's...well. Nobody's ever going to know you the way I know you."

"Cool," Eli drawls, "'cause that's not a creepy statement at all."

"Shut up. No, think about it," Demetri sighs, "Nobody else ever knew you until Cobra Kai. Nobody. And I don't know you now, but I knew you first. You're not going to show anyone else the Eli I know, because you want him gone."

Shrugging, Demetri adds "I like Eli. And you'll always be Eli to me. No matter how tough you get. Even breaking my arm? That was all Eli, dude. Nothing is going to fix that, and you're never going to be Hawk to me."

Fix. Eli startles back, then inhales like he's been punched in the gut.

He never knew that Demetri thought Eli was someone who needed fixing. "That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," Eli mutters dryly, raising an eyebrow at Demetri. "So, uh. What happens in the closet stays in the closet?"

Demetri grins at the joke within the joke, nodding. "Sure," he agrees, but his eyes stray to Eli's mouth, to the lips and then the scars. "But, hey, no promises, man. There are other closets in the world," Demetri points out, staring at the door, "Other times, other places."

"But-"

"No buts," Demetri sighs, running a hand through his hair, "We'll talk about it some other time," and there's a part of Eli, now, that's been conditioned so thoroughly to respond to authority with obedience that when he blurts an instinctive _yes, sir_ Demetri doesn't even look surprised.

"That's disturbing. Vaguely hot, too," is all Demetri chooses to say. It's for the best, probably, because a moment later the door is being yanked open from the outside and Sam is staring at them in disappointment, like she had hoped to catch them in the act, and Demetri plays it off like it's nothing.

"You _just_ missed the climactic finish," he teases, "We had a whole Chippendale's act raring to go, you know how teenage hormones are-"

"Hilarious," Sam deadpands, shooing them out of the closet and back towards the couches, where Yasmine is glaring at Eli like he pissed in her beer, "You guys have fun in there?"

Eli's tongue trips all over itself. Demetri settles down, cross-legged, Yasmine clutching at his arm. He shoots Eli a thoughtful look, mouth curving in a smile that Eli hasn't seen in ages: the conspiratorial one, where he and Demetri know something nobody else does, sharing a secret only meant for two.

"Oh, we had a blast," Demetri assures them, fiddling with his phone while Yasmine leans across the table for another drink. A moment later, the chatter picks up and Eli's phone dings. Frowning, he digs through his pocket, then nearly fumbles the goddamn thing to the ground when he sees the message.

_From: Demetri_

_you're blushing, dude_ 😏 _xo_

Head ducked, fingers clumsy, Eli types back.

_From: Eli_

_and who's fault is that? jackass_

_From: Eli_

_........... xo 'til next time I guess_

**Author's Note:**

> that's the end of the repressed pining teenage boys in lust for now! i had a lot of fun writing this while heavily sleep deprived and i'd love to hear your thoughts on these two disaster boys, please. <3 throw the author a bone in the form of some feedback!


End file.
